Karaoke Night
by Mutant Goldfish
Summary: After a bump to the head, Nathaniel goes a bit crazy and charges Bartimaeus with a running an interdimentional singing contest. Crossover. ABANDONED.
1. Thanks, Kitty

Karaoke Night

Disclaimer: If I list everything I don't own, I'll use up all the space on the hard drive. If I own something, I'll let you know.

Story: I can't wait to read book three of the Bartimaeus Trilogy, Ptolemy's Gate, but for reasons beyond my control, won't be able to for a while. So I'm writing this rubbish instead. Enjoy!

Chapter One: Thanks, Kitty

Across the universes, all the people of the worlds were enjoying a small breath of peace and tranquility amidst the trials and tribulations their authors put them through.

Leave it to John Mandrake to botch it up.

He wasn't quite sure why his head was hurting, or why he was tied to a chair in a basement of a library, or why a gargoyle was drifting several feet off the ground, talking to him. But this rather prickly gargoyle assured him that he was fine; that a girl named Kitty had just hit him upside the head and tied him to a chair because she just needed to talk to the gargoyle for a few minutes. He had no idea what the apparition was talking about and told him so. If it's possible for a gargoyle to look stunned, it did.

"What do you mean?" it asked. "Did you forget Kitty already? She did save your life. Kids today."

John informed it that right now, he didn't know his own name. He assumed that was a bad thing.

"Oh, great," the gargoyle moaned, becoming an Egyptian boy. "I'm stuck with an amnesic for a master."

Perhaps so, but the amnesic got a wonderful idea. "Why don't we throw a karaoke contest?" he asked.

The boy looked at him as if he had three heads. He might, he had never checked.

"And he's crazy, too. This'll be fun."

"No really!" he insisted. "In fact, we could invite a bunch of people who hate singing and make them sing!" A look of glazed bliss entered his eye.

Poor Bartimaeus had to obey, no matter how insane Mandrake was. "Thanks a load, Kitty," he muttered.

After acquiring a karaoke machine, auditorium, prison chamber and stereos, (Bartimaeus decided to do the thing right) he was at a loss of what to do next. Who exactly was he to force to sing? So, despite his better instincts, Bartimaeus asked his befuddled master whom he was supposed to find. Nathaniel was still tied to the chair, by the way. If nothing else, it gave Bartimaeus a strange kind of joy to see the brat bound.

"Uhh…" Mandrake said. The knock to the head seemed to have damaged his cognitive functions even more than the already were.

"Focus!" Bartimaeus snapped. The whole deal was fraying his last nerve.

"Well, I read this book once, and there was a guy in it who wouldn't want to sing," Nathaniel rambled.

"Could you make a list or something?" he asked impatiently. "You still remember how to write, right?

"Yeah!" Mandrake shouted defensively. _It's gonna be a long day,_ Bartimaeus thought.


	2. Enjoy Your Stay

Chapter Two: Enjoy Your Stay

Bartimaeus, as usual, was correct. It was an extremely long day. Gallivanting across dimensions, sedating the more hostile captives, and chaining them all to the dungeon before they woke up was not his idea of fun. But, luckily, the preparations were finished and this whole thing would be done soon. The contest competitors were beginning to wake up, so Bartimaeus decided that now would be a good time to explain this situation.

"Okay, people. Are all of you awake?" he asked first.

A general chorus of "Yes", "Yeah", "Not quite", and "Give me five more minutes" rose over the group. Some things don't change.

"Good enough. First off, you should know I'm not any happier about this than you are. Let's just get that clear. All right, then. I kidnapped all of you to have you participate in a karaoke contest," Bartimaeus explained.

A much less kind chorus rose from the group, this one consisting of cursing, threats, and snores.

"I was on orders. Anyway, my master says either you people can sing, or we'll leave you chained to the wall indefinitely. I don't care what you choose, but I'm personally hoping to get out of here, and indefinite prison stretches for you mean waiting around for me."

"Your master?" a black-robed, yellow-eyed figure asked. "Are you a Jedi?"

"Is that an insult?" Bartimaeus inquired uncertainly.

"Of course not!" a bearded man called. "It's a position of the highest-"

"Put a sock in it, Kenobi!" the first speaker advised.

"People, please! I really don't want to sedate you again. It's too hard to sing that way. If you're planning on getting it over with, raise your hand, give me your name, and tell me what song you want to sing. After that, sit tight, and I'll take you all out to the auditorium," Bartimaeus ordered.

"Auditorium?" a child with arrows on his head repeated.

"Yes, you'll have to sing in front of an audience, namely your fellow prisoners."

Chatter broke out at this remark. Everyone seemed to want to see who else was there, checking his or her friends (or enemies) wouldn't witness the fiasco.

"I just hope Malfoy isn't here," a boy in glasses said.

"You can forget that, Potter," a sneering voice drawled.

"Frankly, I don't care whether or not Visser Three hears me sing. I just don't want him to recognize me," a blond girl worried.

He won't, unless you go on as a bear, a blue being assured her.

"You might improve your singing some, though," another member of their group, teased.

"Yeah, we all know how excellent _your_ singing is, Marco," she shot back.

"Has anyone seen Julius? If he's not here, I'll just do it. If so…" a short, hairy individual wondered.

"I haven't seen him," a pale teenager informed him. "Have you, Butler?"

"I can't sing, Uncle, my voice is too hoarse," a scarred character complained.

"Well, you could always-"his uncle began.

"For the last time, I'm not playing the sungy-horn!"

"You could always sing that ballad of the Ring, Strider," a petite entity told his taller friend.

"It's not a _ballad_, Pippin!" another one spoke up. "It's a legend. Even I know that."

"Whenever elves sing, do things just come out of the plants, or do you have to sing to it?" yet another diminutive figure inquired.

"We have to sing to it. What else would we do? You should learn more about elven culture, Orik, and then you wouldn't speak to nonexistent beings so much," a tall woman answered.

And numerous other conversations Bartimaeus didn't quite catch.

"Get over it! Yes, you'll have to sing in front of everyone! It beats Shriveling Fire! For the Other Places' sake!" he broke out with. That stopped up conversation a bit.

"Soooo," Bartimaeusdrawled awkwardly. "Any volunteers?"


	3. And So It Begins

Chapter Three: And So It Begins

After five minutes of collecting song choices, Bartimaeus realized they had a problem: about half of the people here no concept of modern music and would request to sing songs like "The Fate of the Ents" or "The Warrior's Chant" or even worse "The Foe in Durza". Bartimaeus realized he was going to need some sort of test to separate the ones who knew "real" music from those who didn't. Hmmm…

"If you've ever heard the song "Heartbreak Hotel", go sit over there!" he yelled.

A look of confusion spread across the faces of even the modern-looking ones. "What's that?" someone shouted.

"A song by Elvis… Surely you must have heard of Elvis!" Bartimaeus responded, aghast.

"Elvis…The old guy?"

"Could you sing some of it?" a plea rose from the group.

_Oh, dear,_ he thought. Out loud, he began to sing, "Ever since my baby left me/I've found a new place to dwell/it's down at the end of a lonely street/At Heartbreak Hotel. That enough?"

"That was plenty," they responded. _At least Faquarl isn't here, _Bartimaeus thought gloomily. He addressed the group that didn't know popular music. "You people are going perform after these guys. That way you'll hear a lot of current music before you have to sing any. Got it?" They nodded.

After getting the song choices of those who could sing, Bartimaeus reported his success to Nathaniel. He asked if Bartimaeus could move him to the auditorium to watch. He picked Nathaniel up, chair, ropes, and all, and set him down in the back of the auditorium.

"You know, Nat, I had an idea. Why don't we rate the contestants on a scale of one to ten? It would be fun, if nothing else," Bartimaeus mused.

"You're the boss," Nathaniel garbled happily.

"No, I'm not," Bartimaeus reminded him.

"You're the one doing all the work. I'm just calling the shots," Nathaniel countered.

Bartimaeus considered this development. "Yeah, you're right. I am doing all the work. Do you want to be a judge?"

Nathaniel nodded a little too enthusiastically for an eighteen year old, but on the other hand, he didn't know how old he was. And even if he did, he wouldn't know what it meant. This could definitely be an improvement.

After sitting everyone down in the auditorium, Bartimaeus explained the latest development. Most of the contestants stared at him blankly, but several muttered the phrase "American Idol". There was a long silence.

"So…" Bartimaeus ventured. "Who wants to go first?"

No one wanted to go first.

"The sooner you sing, the sooner you're free," Bartimaeus stated.

Hesitantly, some brave souls raised their hands. Bartimaeus sighed with relief. "Okay, you," he said, pointing to one. "You're up."

The blond girl who had been worrying about someone named Visser Three stepped up to the microphone. A silence descended over the crowd.

"What's your name?" Bartimaeus asked.

"Rachel," she responded monosyllabically.

"Rachel, what?" Nathaniel asked innocently.

"Just Rachel," Rachel answered.

"What are you singing?" Bartimaeus inquired, businesslike.

"Break Away, by Kelly Clarkson," Rachel replied.

"Okay," Nathaniel said, spacing out again. Bartimaeus kicked him.

"Go ahead," Bartimaeus told her.

Halfway through the song Marco started cracking up, only to every other Animorph (minus Ax) whack him. But that's what you get.

She finished and people cheered, to save themselves whacking. Bartimaeus stood up.

"First of all, good job. Second, you can stay and watch awhile, go straight home, or whack your amused friend. The choice is yours."

She thought about it. "I'll stay and watch, but do I have to stay till it's over?" Rachel asked.

"No."

"Okay then."

Bartimaeus sighed. One down, fifty-four to go.

(A//N: I will not be writing fifty-four more chapters. It just sounded good.)


	4. Rock & Rolling Right Along

A/N: Apologies for all the mush. It won't happen again. Also sorry if Juliet has too many lines; it's hard to get all the fandoms in each chapter.

Renewed Disclaimer: I do not own any of the songs mentioned in this chapter. Their proper owners are credited by Bartimaeus. Please don't sue me, I only use the songs because I love them so much!

Chapter Four: Rock and Rolling Right Along

Bartimaeus was really starting to get into the whole "running the show" thing. After the first contestant, seeing that there was no horrific scarring from singing, he hadn't had to threaten the contestants at all. People just volunteered with no further prompting. It was rather a nice change.

"Alright, our next contestant is Albus Dumbledore from the Harry Potter world-"

A pale, red-eyed, wannabe-villain stood up. "I object! It is _I_ will rule the wizarding world! The series shall be named after ME!"

"Uh, Voldemort, right?" Juliet asked.

"_Lord_ Voldemort," Wannabe Dark Lord corrected.

"Whatever. You're not going to rule anything; you do know that, right? You live in a children's book!"

"What?" Voldemort hissed.

"- and he'll be singing, 'When I'm 64' by the Beatles," Bartimaeus finished.

Voldemort had a problem with this, as well. "The Beatles? That Muggle group who claims to be more popular than me?"

Even _I_, a newcomer to this planet, have heard of these Beatles. I have never heard of you. Perhaps they are correct. a furry, blue alien stated.

Voldemort looked like he was about to explode. As amusing as that would be, a well-meaning lackey felt it necessary to placate him.

"Only Muggles and mud-bloods speak of the Beatles. They are no threat to you," the toady assured him.

"They wouldn't be, considering half the group is dead," Dumbledore remarked from the stage. With that, the group quieted down enough for the song to begin.

_When I get older, losing my hair,_

_Many years from now._

_Will you still be sending me a Valentine?_

_Birthday greetings, bottle of wine?_

And so forth. Several seconds after he finished there was total and utter silence. Then the cheers erupted from every decent person in the audience. One particularly loud individual even yelled, "Rock the house, Albus!" With slight dismay, Bartimaeus realized it was his beloved master, Nathaniel.

"Shut up!" the djinni hissed.

"Okay," Nathaniel said agreeably. He was really starting to like Nat: Version 2.

"Next up: Trouble Kelp, singing 'She's a Rebel'. Is that your real name?"

Trouble nodded.

"And it says here you'd like to dedicate this song to Holly Short," Bartimaeus read.

"What!" four different entities exclaimed in unison. Mulch Diggums started to choke on his sausage.

"GRUB!" Trouble roared. "I'll kill you! I don't care what Mommy said!"

Luckily, Butler intervened before Trouble managed to catch his brother, seeing that Bartimaeus had developed a sudden lethargy and was completely unable to do anything but watch the fight.

"Just get on with it!" a hundred angry warriors yelled, borrowed from _Monty Python and the Holy Grail_.

"Fine," Trouble Kelp said huffily.

_She's a rebel, she's a saint, she's the salt of the earth, and she's dangerous._

_She's a rebel, vigilante, missing link on the brink of destruction._

Much to everyone's surprise, when the song was done, Holly gave him a small kiss on the cheek. Most of the girls "awww"-ed, most of the boys snorted with suppressed laughter, and all spirits mimed gagging. Nathaniel stared avidly at the ceiling. It's the same in every dimension.

"Attention!" Bartimaeus cried, banging a gavel he found under the seats. "Our last performance before dinner is" he looked down at his clipboard, "Mara Jade Skywalker, singing "God Bless the Broken Road" by Rascal Flatts."

"And I'd like to dedicate this song to my husband, Luke Skywalker," she added pointedly. "_Someone _purposely failed to mention that."

"What, you thought someone was trying to prank a Jedi?" a scruffy-looking guy asked derisively from the audience.

"No comments from the peanut gallery!" Nathaniel commanded, gazing unsteadily at the wall behind Han.

"Let the chick sing, already!" Juliet called from the crowd. After giving the wrestling fan an odd look, Mara did so.

_I set out on a narrow way, many years ago,_

_Hoping that I'd find true love along the broken road._

_But I got lost a time or two, wiped my brow, kept pushing through,_

_I couldn't see how every sign pointed straight to you._

Bartimaeus made an announcement after she was finished.

"Time for dinner, people! The cafeteria is across the hall from the auditorium. If you don't like the food, tough. No alcohol unless you're over eighteen." A collective groan from minors.

"I thought the drinking age is twenty-one," Nathaniel inquired in an undertone.

"I though some people might need a stiff drink after all that lovey-dovey rubbish," the djinni explained.

"Good thinking."

"Thanks."


End file.
